Holes
by BeginAgain46
Summary: God knows what I’m going to do to fill in these holes left by you. DT


**Holes** by **saulalovin**  
A **Numb3rs** fan fiction

**Pairing:** Don Eppes and Terry Lake  
**Summary:** God knows what I'm going to do to fill in these holes left by you.  
**Disclaimer:** _Numb3rs_ and its characters do not belong to me. If it did, I would so not be here right now. lol  
**Spoilers:** Nothing major. This is post-Season 1 finale.  
**Author's Note:** It's sort of a song fic, 'cause the idea sprung up when Rascal Flatts' _Holes_ got stuck in my head. Hope you like it. Drop me a line afterwards in the form of a review and tell me what you think.

**_God knows what I'm going to do to fill in these holes left by you…_**

She was gone and he had done nothing to stop her.

Granted, he hadn't found out until yesterday that she was leaving. She hadn't told him. _Why _hadn't she told him? Didn't he have the right to know?

_Well_, did he?

Don Eppes stared out into the Los Angeles skyline. The city felt bigger somehow, now that she wasn't with him (and he meant that in the most platonic way). Bigger, and lonelier, and _darker_, in spite of La-La Land's twinkling lights. Vulnerability was slowly creeping towards him and threatening to completely overwhelm him – he could _feel _it.

He groaned, frustrated. He sounded like a melodramatic lovesick _fool_.

…Was that what he was? Did he _love _Terry Lake?

He knew for certain that he had once, a long, long time ago. They were young and had grown closer and closer while training at Quantico. Images flooded his brain: their first date (pizza at the Laundromat), their first kiss (he had initiated it at one late-night review session, unable to keep himself from doing it any longer; apparently, she had felt the same, judging by the intensity of the kisses she returned), their first night together (later that evening of the first kiss; they had fallen asleep on the couch, spooned up against each other)…

Soon the images began to get painful: their first fight (it had been something trivial – he didn't even remember what it had been about) and their first _real_ fight (things had gotten intense too quickly and they both wanted to take a break). He remembered the deep hurt he had felt when he had first seen her together with someone else, and the same look in her eyes when she had seen him with another girl. The confrontation hadn't been pretty, but after a long talk, they had worked it out.

It had all been perfect until they finished training. It had been a difficult decision, but they both decided that it was best if they broke up. Training was an entirely different thing from actual fieldwork. Their relationship would have only made things more complicated, with the constant worry about the other, and it would keep them from doing their jobs.

It had been a mistake. He had known it the minute she left him and he was sure she had known it too. But he hadn't done anything, and neither had she.

They had promised to keep in touch, and they had kept up that promise for a while. But soon, with their jobs becoming more and more demanding and the pain of hearing from the other without actually being together and feeling the other's touch had caused the phone calls and letters to happen less and less frequently, until communication between them became limited to the occasional short message that sounded highly impersonal, as well as birthday and Christmas cards.

Still, he had heard about her quite often from agents. She seemed to be doing well, and was hailed as a particularly adept profiler. He was proud of her and everything she had accomplished, but he took it as a sign that she had moved on and had pretty much forgotten about him and what they had shared – or at least kept those memories filed away in the recesses of her mind.

He had tried to do the same – he took a job in Albuquerque and threw himself into his work. He avoided dating, even though his co-workers constantly tried to set him up with other women. He repeatedly told himself that he had moved on, but the idea of being with someone else, someone _not _Terry, made him feel greatly uncomfortable.

Then he had met Kim Hall.

She was, in every way, Terry's opposite. He wasn't sure if this was what attracted him to her in the first place. Whatever it had been, it had started his very first intimate relationship after Terry.

At times his mind drifted and he found himself wondering if he had ever really loved Kim. They had been together for a long time – long enough for him to ask her to marry him. Maybe he had loved her…but not as much as he loved – no, _loves_; he knew that for certain now– Terry.

Briefly he entertained himself by imagining what could've been. What if they had never broken things off? Would they be married now, with kids? Or what if his mother hadn't gotten sick and he ended up marrying Kim? Would they have children? Maybe it really wouldn't have worked out, and he would've sought Terry out…

Cursing silently, he ran a hand through his hair and his brow furrowed. Everything, all of his thoughts, always led back to her.

_Why?_

Years ago he had given up any hope of ever seeing her again – let alone rekindling their romance. _It was funny how life worked, though_, he mused, feeling the stubble on his chin as he brushed his hand over it. _Mom got sick, I moved back to LA, and there she was._

_And now she's gone again. And, again, I didn't do anything to stop her._

His chest tightened and his mouth went dry as the thought of going after her this time crossed his mind. Thoughts swirled around dizzily in his head, only worsening the confusion, and in an instant he decided to just stop thinking and go with his gut – or rather, his heart:

He was going to bring her back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He honestly didn't know how he had made it to LAX _alive_. Traffic on the interstate had been aggravating – that was LA for you – and he had taken all the shortcuts and back roads he knew (plus some he didn't). He had probably broken about fifty traffic rules and completely abused his authority as an FBI agent, but he didn't care. None of that mattered – he just had to get to her.

He was in the middle of a heated debate with himself over whether to catch a nonstop flight or a bunch of different flights and mentally counting the hours, trying to figure out which option would get him to her sooner, when he spotted someone familiar in the line for security check.

_Terry_.

It was almost like an out-of-body experience, his body on complete autopilot as he jumped over pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage, strollers and package and darted around children, a Seeing Eye dog and clusters of people.

"Terry," he finally called when he was near enough.

The woman turned her head and her brown eyes widened as she took in Don Eppes, with his shirt untucked, tie loose and hair slightly messy.

"Don," Terry whispered, tears springing to her eyes, unbidden.

He didn't know how long they just stared at each other, but they were shook out of it by an angry businessman who stood behind Terry in line, demanding she "get out of the line, for Chrissakes!"

With a slight hesitation, she did so, her heartbeat steadily increasing in rhythm.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked, after he had pulled her aside to a corner.

"I… Don't go, Ter. Please. I need you here…with_ me_. I can't… I didn't go after you once, and I'm not going to do it again."

Her heartbeat tripled in speed and she felt a pang in her heart. "I…don't know." She looked at him pleadingly, begging him to understand that he had just came and sprung this on her, and she didn't know what to do about it.

His face fell. "…Okay. I-I guess I better go then. Take care, Terry." He turned and began to walk away slowly, not quite sure that she had just rejected him, after everything he had done.

_Maybe we weren't meant to be_, he thought hollowly, even though every fiber of his being screamed that they _were _meant to be together.

Terry watched him leave, tears streaming down her cheeks now. Was she ready to let him walk away again? The first time had been hard enough. She didn't know if she could go through a second time…or a third, or a fourth.

"Wait," she blurted out, doubting that he would even hear her. Maybe he was too far gone already.

Her voice carried over the din of the crowd, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around slowly and found her watching him, her face tearstained, but to him, still as beautiful as ever.

"Wait," she whispered again, and ran into his arms. She clung to his neck as he held her to him tightly, their tears mixing together from the salty trails on their cheeks. Her head lifted, and her lips found his, all the years of sadness and hurt and loneliness and pain melting away.

"I'm sorry," Don finally told her softly, still clinging to each other. "I should've come after you sooner."

"It's okay. We're here now."

…_**Seeking the truth, I've dug them myself.**_


End file.
